


Puppets and Strings

by AnOddSock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (referenced only) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blindfolds, Cock Warming, Controlling Behaviour, Dehumanization, Derogatory Language, Feelings Realization, Hopeful Ending, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Nudity, Pining, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Slave Castiel (Supernatural), Sexual Slavery, Sleep Deprivation, Starvation, Threats of Violence, Violence, angel possession, lack of autonomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: “You can stay,” he’d said, boxing Cas up against the wall, “On these conditions: You obey my every command. You will indulge my every whim.”Cas, newly human and overwhelmed, is now a slave to Gadreel's demands; trapped in a situation he can't work out how to fix by himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Gadreel (Supernatural), Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Puppets and Strings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



> Bad Things Happen Bingo Card square: I know you're in there somewhere, fight!
> 
> As requested by Tori, I hope it lives up to what you envisaged! I lost the doc with the notes from our original conversation, but I think I got the best bits in still xD <3 
> 
> A note about the derogatory language: Gadreel calls Cas a whore at one point, it's a small moment, but given that he's forcing Cas to do these sexual things, it's important to note it's there. Gadreel is really horrible and victim blame-y in general, telling Cas he's only good for this. Stay safe in your reading, no hard feelings if you need to back away.

He hasn’t slept. He hasn’t moved, at least not much. Tiredness pulls at him, he feels like he finally understands the phrase “a puppet with the strings cut”, he is listless, lifeless, too bone weary to do more than slump against the wall.

Gadreel told him to kneel here, all night, and he won’t disobey—not with Sam and Dean’s well-being on the line. He’s fairly sure Gadreel won’t kill them, but he can’t be utterly certain of that fact. What he is certain of is that Gadreel has no problem causing them pain. Cas hates to watch them suffer, and though Gadreel removes their own memories of any torture, Cas has to live with it, and he _can’t;_ he can’t be the cause of it, not again.

So he kneels where he was told, waits for morning, and wonders what Gadreel will want from him next. His thoughts drift in slow, lazy circles. Sluggish. Weak. His eyes are desperate to close and each time he blinks it’s an effort to force them open again. He never fully understood, before, how reliant on things humans were. He understood in the abstract the need for food, sleep, warmth, that they required them to survive, but he never knew how desperately it could hurt not to have them. Gadreel seems intent on finding out how far he can push the limits of Cas’s newly human body, and he is curious too in a way. How far before he stumbles and doesn’t get back up? How far before he weakens and can’t fake it anymore, can’t pretend to Dean that he’s fine, can’t act _normal_ around Sam when Sam is in control?

The door to his room opens, finally, and he blinks blearily up at Sam’s tall body as Gadreel walks nearer, until he has to crane his head back. Gadreel grips his chin to keep him steady.

“Did you sleep, Castiel?”

“No.”

Gadreel smiles, coldly, detachedly. “Did you move from this spot?”

“I remained here, yes.”

“And you stayed on your knees, didn’t you? Tell me.”

“I did,” he says, revulsion rising as he admits to submitting, even when alone.

“Very good. You are very good. Does it hurt?”

He grits his teeth and nods, tersely. It always hurts.

“Perfect. So obedient. Are we going to have a good day, then?”

He sags, head only held upright by the hand under his chin that grips harder as he loses strength. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll try what? Use your words, tell me what I want to hear.”

“I will try to be _good_ for you. I’ll try to behave.”

Gadreel pushes a knee— _Sam’s knee, Sam’s body so close—_ against his chest, crushes him against the wall until he can barely draw breath. He gasps. What did he miss, what did he forget? He grasps for what he missed, struggles for enough air and chokes out: “Master _,_ I’ll be good, _Master_.”

Gadreel’s grin is broad and genuine as he releases Cas to slump onto all fours. “On your belly for me, up on the bed. Please me now and I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.”

He groans as he moves his numb, cold limbs and forces himself to get up. He sways on his feet but Sam— _no, Gadreel. Sam isn’t home right now—_ doesn’t move to catch him. He scrambles gracelessly onto the mattress and lies face down. 

It’s the closest he gets to comfort, when Gadreel uses him on the bed. He’s almost asleep before Gadreel is even through with him, while Sam’s thick cock is still inside him. And he prays— _no, thinks, he just thinks it, he can’t pray or Gadreel might hear—_ apologies over and over. To Sam. To Dean. To his angel brethren. He says sorry all the time; because he’s fallen so low, because he doesn’t know how to fix it, sorry that he’s weak, that he lies, that he takes comfort in Sam’s body even when he knows he shouldn’t.

He hears Gadreel give him permission to sleep, feels a rough hand pet his head, and sinks into the darkness with relief.

* * *

The days pass in cycles of torments. He must pretend to Dean that he’s fine, that he’s happy and safe; he can’t arouse suspicion. So even when Sam (and Gadreel) are not present, they’re a constant thought in his mind. He watches his every move, holds his tongue, softens his tone, he has to be so _careful._ It’s exhausting, soul crushing. He wants so badly to ask for help. He wants to tell Dean that the angel inside his brother is not a friend, is not kind, that Sam is in danger too. 

When he first came back to the Bunker Gadreel had made him a deal. _“You can stay,”_ he’d said, boxing Cas up against the wall, “ _On these conditions: You obey my every command. You will indulge my every whim.”_

Cas had said no, refused, pushed back and turned to go tell Dean that the angel inside Sam was not what he claimed to be. 

_“Then on your head be it, I will leave, and Sam’s blood will be on your hands. I cannot be around an angel that might be a danger to me, not unless I have complete control.”_

Sam’s life was a dangling thread Gadreel could taunt him with as often as he liked, and Cas would always relent. He hadn’t thought it would be so bad, really, until Gadreel had discovered that being inside a human body came with its own set of temptations.

_“I find this body to have a lot of desires, and I am curious to see them through. I think you can help me sate them.”_

Since that day, it been endless rounds of sex and Gadreel finding pleasure in Cas’s body, in his pain, and in denying him his own needs. Revealing the truth to Sam now would only put him in danger, it would be selfish, when Sam is otherwise unharmed. Gadreel needs to fully heal Sam before anything else can happen, and contemplating anything else is just putting his own comfort above Sam’s life. He can handle a little pain, can’t he? He can handle being used at the angel’s whims, if it saves Sam. He must. He will. Even when it hurts.

Especially when it hurts.

He’s good at being quiet, stoic. He has eons of training in being stalwart and never wavering. There’s steel inside him made of angel grace and divinity, even if his star song has been stolen. But Gadreel knows exactly what it takes to make an angel— or to break one. Now that he’s weighed down by humanity it’s a much easier task, too. So often his focus narrows down to the emptiness in his belly or the pain behind his eyes, to the heavy weight of limbs that are sluggish and slow against the might of Gadreel. His every move is pained, with aches that never fully heal because Gadreel is on him and inside him over and over, never ceasing never stopping.

He dreams in shades of pain. His mind has taken on the riot of sensations he experiences— all so new, so bright— and seeped his sleep in the horrors and the shame too. He can’t get away from it.

His only relief is snatches of dreams with Sam, fake and concocted by a mind so desperate for something good that it’s twisted his friendship into something more. He’s sullied it, ruined it. He craves Sam’s touch, Sam’s words, Sam’s kindness more than anything. He imagines it’s Sam fucking him sometimes, just to make it more bearable, and the guilt he feels over it bleeds into his sleeping thoughts too.

He finds tears on his pillow and knots in his stomach when he wakes, and then he gets up and faces it all again. Day after day after day.

* * *

It’s always a guess: is Sam in control today, or will it be Gadreel playing at Sam? Is Dean home? Will he be spared an entire day of Gadreel’s games because Dean is there and they must pretend? 

Dean _is_ around when he wakes and moves into the common area, and they are sitting together looking for any hint of a case when Cas walks out with sleep mussed hair in the clothes Gadreel laid out for him. Socks, no shoes. One thin layer on his body, not too many things in the way when sex is on the table. And it often is on the table, right there where they’re sitting. He suppresses a shudder.

“Good night, Cas?” Dean asks without looking up. “You slept late.”

Sam glances up at him, a smile lifting his mouth, and his face is so open and so bright that Cas wants to weep. 

“I struggled,” he clears his throat. “I did not fall asleep until very late.” Sam frowns, concern written across his features and Cas rushes to reassure him. “I’m fine, do not worry, it’s just that being human is still new to me. I’m getting by.”

“I’d have thought you were used to sleeping by now?” Sam says, tipping his head in question. “Is there something we can do? Maybe some camomile tea, or a relaxing routine.”

“He’ll have you doing yoga before you know it if you’re not careful buddy.” Dean gets up with a smirk and claps him on the back on the way to the kitchen. Cas shudders at the thought. Gadreel has already made it clear he needs to be pliant, easily stretched and contorted. Yoga would probably help with that.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to do this alone you know,” Sam insists once Dean is gone.

“I know, I am not alone.” Cas sits tentatively in the seat next to Sam. “How are you feeling?” He needs to know, or to guess, how Sam’s recovery is going. He needs to know there’s an end in sight to this double life.

“Stronger, better.” Sam smiles. “Though I have the weirdest dreams, sometimes.”

“Don’t think about it too much, I’m sure it’s nothing.” A thought occurs to him and he glances around like someone might overhear. “Though you could tell Dean what you dream, I’m sure he has more understanding of it than me.”

Sam’s posture changes, Gadreel’s eyes shine blue and clear, because of course—there is always someone listening. “Do not push your luck Castiel. You are treading close to the line.” He reaches over and grabs Cas’s face, squeezes his cheeks until his lips pucker and then bites at the lower lip until it starts to bleed. “I’ll be the one to decide if you can have these kinds of conversations. Do not think I am unaware of your disobedience. You will pay for this later.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“You tried to make trouble, I saw it on your face. And that’s quite enough.”

Gadreel disappears and Sam blinks kindly at him; the fight drains out of Cas as quickly as the blood that pools inside his mouth and there’s nothing to do but swallow the bitter taste it leaves behind.

* * *

Dean is gone the next day, on a supply run two states over for a particular brand of local beer that he’s decided _must_ try and Cas has no easily explainable reason to ask him to stay. He can feel Sam’s eyes burning holes in his back and he quails at knowing his body won’t be his today, and that Sam’s won’t be his own either.

As soon as Dean is out the door Gadreel snaps his fingers and points at his feet. Cas goes to his knees and it earns him a slap that forces his head to the side to ricochet off the table.

“Strip first, then kneel. You know the rules by now.”

Naked, bared to the hazel eyes of the one he would want to please most if Sam only _knew_ , Cas folds himself to the floor. Gadreel plays with him, scratches nails through his hair that make him shiver and yanks his head around by the locks on top of his head. Sam’s legs wrap around him and his ankles lock behind Cas’s back until he’s boxed into the space between Sam’s body. Trapped. He’s always trapped.

Anger sparks and swells and he ripples with it. Gadreel notices, because he _always_ notices _,_ but Cas can’t help but stare up at him with rage filled eyes and invite the punishment anyway.

He’s blindfolded for the rest of the day, his sight stolen and replaced with touch that he never knows where it will come from. His mouth is used to warm Sam’s cock while Gadreel basks in the heat of his human body. Time becomes a fluid, stretchable thing, ebbing and flowing with the ache in his jaw and the drool that drips down to dry on his chest. It collapses back in on itself when Sam’s hands— _not Sam, it’s never Sam, it will never ever be Sam, not now not after this—_ cup his face and paw at his neck. It bends and breaks at the whims of Gadreel’s demands. He’s alone with a monster, and counts away the hours with each miserable invasion of his autonomy; whiles away the minutes feeling every inch of Sam’s loss of control.

* * *

Gadreel bends him over the library table, ass out with his hands folded under his head. Sam’s tongue traces patterns across his back, licks up the human filth of sweat that lines his skin. Sam’s mouth utters filthy things in his ear — tells him he’s useless and worthless and only good for this because all he has to do is stay still and take it, and even he can’t get that wrong. Sam’s teeth dig into his neck and shoulders and Sam’s nails scratch trails of fire across his skin, Sam’s fingers force bruises into his hips while he’s held still. Sam’s cock spreads him open, and it’s not gentle, and it’s not easy… and none of it is even Sam at all.

Gadreel is ruthless, fucks him until all he can feel is the pain and the way his body gives in to it. He whines and warbles and Gadreel praises him for taking it so well. When he tries to claw away to relieve the pressure inside him Gadreel pins him down with angelic powers and drags his hands behind his back to hold him steady, to use as leverage to drill deeper.

And that’s how Dean finds them; the door opens and Dean’s footsteps stomp down the stairs, and then falter. “What the hell?”

Cas tries to move, a cry falling from his lips. Gadreel stills behind him and he feels tension crackle through the air. Gadreel always says if Dean or Sam found out that he’d hurt them, that he’d make Cas regret it, that he’d make Cas beg to be forgiven by watching them atone for his mistake. And here Dean is, seeing it all, with no way to pretend it isn’t exactly what is happening.

“Maybe knock before you enter a room?” Gadreel says in a perfect imitation of Sam’s voice, and Cas’s fear freezes in its tracks.

“You’re in the public area! I didn’t—since when has this been… put some damn clothes on man!” Dean splutters and Cas hears paper bags rustle and Dean’s footsteps stomp down the last of the stairs. Cas can’t see, the blindfold still in place a day later, but he burns with humiliation. 

Gadreel pulls out all at once and Cas yells at the unexpected emptying when he’s been stuffed full for far too long. Gadreel’s power leaves him and he slides down the table, slumps onto the floor and lays in a heap, trembling. The blindfold slips from his eyes and he stares dully at the floor as Gadreel walks away.

“Come on, don’t _stare_ Dean, it's not polite. We’ll be done soon. I'll explain everything later.”

“I wish you wouldn’t! I don’t want the details!” Cas hears them walk away and glances up to see Sam— _really, really not Sam—_ guiding Dean from the room.

“Whatever you freaky cats get up to is your own business I don’t want to know, just keep it private yeah? We have bedrooms for a reason Sam, use them—”

Dean’s voice cuts out mid-sentence and Cas hears the ringing that feels like air bubbles in his ears, that always accompanies a memory wipe. He breath catches, did he get away from this intrusion so easily?

Gadreel walks back into view and Cas scurries backwards on his hands, he looks up with wild eyes and licks his lips. He doesn’t want to go back to mid-fuck, doesn’t want to experience more of it with the weight of Dean’s reaction still hot on his skin. Dean’s judgement which has just been erased from existence like it didn’t happen at all.

Gadreel doesn’t look winded, not like he usually does after exerting his powers on something outside himself. Sam’s skin doesn’t look peaky, and Gadreel isn’t struggling to stay in control. Which makes Cas wonder…

“You’re stronger?” He accuses, spits the words out before they die in his chest at the look of anger in Gadreel’s eyes.

“Than you? Of course.”

“Than you were before. Sam… Sam’s internal wounds aren’t sapping your reserves.”

“What business is it of yours?” Gadreel snaps.

“Because if Sam doesn’t need you, you can leave, I can…”

Gadreel snarls and pounces, grabs him and slams him against the wall. Winded, coughing, his hands scrabble as Gadreel presses Sam’s forearm down on his windpipe.

“You can what, Castiel? Beat me? Out-think me? Plot against me? I don’t think so.” With every word he cuts off more air, and lands punch after punch on Cas’s ribs and stomach. Cas, choked and starved of oxygen, can’t even cry out.

Gadreel releases him and he slumps to the floor, lands heavily on his knees and then there’s a hand in his hair that drags him back toward the table. “No!” He thrashes, twists, claws at the grip on his hair and wails. He won’t give in to this, he will _fight_ , now that Sam’s life might not be on the line.

“Would you risk it, _Cas?_ ” Gadreel asks, mirroring Sam’s cadence of speech. “Would you risk my life?”

“No, but I’m not! Listen to me, Sam, listen!” He gains freedom for a precious few seconds and scurries away, grabs a table leg to haul himself upright but Sam’s weight lands on his back and knocks him down. “Sam!”

Gadreel presses a hand to the back of Cas’s head and it _burns._ The grace tries to force its way into his head, to scorch out resistance and remove his thoughts but he _refuses_. The screaming in his ears — his own, he realises, distantly — is deafening, it echoes off the walls; pain magnified and returned thousandfold. 

He’s learned more from humans than Gadreel has, though. He’s learned how to fight dirty. He throws an elbow back, kicks and bites and scratches and gets enough room to twist onto his stomach. Gadreel’s hands circle his throat before he can do more but this is all he needs, to look into Sam’s eyes.

“See me, Sam. See me and stop this!”

Sam cares, he knows Sam cares. He’s seen it and felt it, and has to believe it.

“Give up, Castiel,” Gadreel snarls, “Give up and I may be lenient with you for this insubordination.”

Cas laughs, because that’s never been true before. “Fuck. You.”

Gadreel’s smile widens fractionally, his eyes a dead stare that bore into Cas and dig out his worst insecurities, lay bare all his shame. “I think not, you’re the whore here, not me. And I will have my spoils. Desist, you cannot win.”

“Maybe not, but he can.” Gadreel hits him, and shoves Cas’s legs apart to try and force his way back inside. Cas screeches. “No! Sam, please, I know you’re in there somewhere. I know it!”

“He’s not listening, I locked him up good and ight, he doesn’t see you suffer. He _chooses_ not to care, more content with the falsity I make for him.”

“That’s not true,” Cas all but sobs, fights against hands that are everywhere all at once, pinning him down and spreading him open. “It’s not true. Fight this Sam, fight him. Come back to me.” Gadreel has a hand around his cock, is lining up, Cas’s own hands unable to reach anything that matters and clawing uselessly at the floor. “Please, please fight for me. I need you.”

Gadreel stills. An eternity passes in the span of seconds, the world stops dead and all Cas can do is breathe as he watches Sam’s eyes for signs of life. Something flickers. Sam flinches. He goes slack and drops Cas’s legs to the floor. And then he doubles over, his hands on the floor and eyes shut tight.

“Sam?” Cas inches forward, unsure whether to stay, or run to Dean for help. “Can you hear me?”

He gets no response besides Sam shaking. Suddenly Sam's head lifts and his eyes glow, then dim, and Sam’s expression is a mask of horror. “What have I done?”

Cas is frozen, he wants to touch but he doesn’t know if he should. “It wasn’t you.”

Sam retches, covers his mouth with one hand and backs away. “It feels like me. It was my body. Cas, fuck, are you… are you okay?”

Cas sighs, he doesn't want to lie. “I’ll heal, I’ll be fine. But you have to kick him out.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Sam wails. “He’s stronger. Too strong. It’s taking everything I have j-just to hold him at bay. What do I do?”

“Hold on, stay here with me. If he-if he locks you away again, he’ll take your memories, and then…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. _Cas_ , please believe me, I would _never._ ”

“I know, I’ve always known that. Fight him Sam I know you’re stronger.” He leans in and grips Sam’s hand like he could offer help, like his touch might be the thing Sam needs to succeed.

“I’ve seen—” Sam shudders and his whole body seems to convulse. “Things with you… him. I just thought it was dreams—nightmares. I kept wondering _why_ because I wouldn’t even think of…” 

“Hold on to that, hold on to what’s real. Find the cracks in what he tries to show you, find the inconsistencies, angels never get it all right.”

Sam offers a shaky smile. “Gabriel, yeah he made mistakes too. But this is so, it’s so hard. Cas I’m slipping.” Sam slumps sideways and winces, his eyes close and he tilts his head and it’s so almost-Gadreel that Cas backs away. “I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. Please don’t make me.”

“You’ll forget,” Cas says sadly. “It’ll be like it never happened. You won’t know.” The least he can do is offer one of them comfort.

“I don’t want to forget, I want a chance! I…” Sam opens his eyes and it seems to take great effort. He looks at Cas and says: “This is the opposite of what I want, of how I wanted it to be. To be with you.” Cas watches heat flush red up Sam’s cheeks from his chest. 

“With me?” He asks, dumbly. It feels like he’s on the brink of knowing something that could change his whole world. Sam nods and Cas finds himself fighting back tears.

“There was always something, wasn’t there? With you… us. I always hoped, maybe, some day,” Sam stumbles over the words but they sound like heaven to Cas.

“I thought it was just me who felt, who _feels…”_ He wants to say more but there isn’t _time_ , Gadreel is pushing and Sam rocks in place as he tries to hold back the tide. “I always wish it were you. I pretend, to make it better. I know that’s wrong, that that’s just using you too, and I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know what else to do.”

“Do it, Cas, imagine it is me if it helps. I would like to help you. Be there for you.” Sam gropes for him, grabs his hand and crushes it tight. “Don’t suffer more than you have to.”

“You won’t hate me for it?” Cas whispers.

“If you won’t hate me, for letting it happen.”

Cas shakes his head and leans in until their foreheads touch. “Don’t talk like you’re giving up.” He looks fervently into Sam’s eyes for a sign he’ll keep fighting.

“We could talk, when he’s not listening? Try and talk to me, help me fix this.”

“He’s always listening, Sam.” The words cut like a knife and they hurt. The truth always hurts.

Sam thinks about it for a moment and then his fingers tap-tap-tap on the floor and Cas looks at them distractedly. Tap-pause-tap-pause-tap tap tap. He frowns.

“Mor—”

“Don’t say it,” Sam says all in a rush. “But yes. He wouldn’t know it, would he?”

Cas shakes his head. “He was locked away in heaven for so long, he is behind in his understanding of people. Unlike me.”

Sam winces again, his mouth an open gash across a face screwed up in concentration. “We’ll find a way… find a way for me Cas. Don’t give up, hold on for me until. Until.”

“I will.”

But Sam is gone before Cas gets the words out, and angelic fury takes his place.

* * *

Gadreel’s wrath is immense. Cas is covered in shades of bruises and endures many sleepless nights. But he sees, deep in the frown lines around Sam’s eyes, that it’s _worry_ that keeps Gadreel so hell bent on causing suffering. Worry that Sam is stronger, that Cas is the catalyst that could get through to him. So he finds some inner strength, reserves of energy that make no sense for his body still to have, to continue.

He waits until Gadreel is placated. He bides his time until the ripples of the talk with Sam have subsided. And only then does he make his move.

He sits next to Sam and places his hand on Sam’s arm. He does nothing for a few long minutes but sit there and let Sam get used to it. Sam doesn’t tell him to move, just quirks a smile at him and they sit in comfortable silence.

He steels himself. Braces for the potential backfiring, for pain that might come. And then he taps.

G-A-D-R-E-E-L

Sam looks askance at him when he realises Cas isn’t tapping mindlessly but conveying a message. Sam frowns and Cas looks pointedly at his hand, and then sits back and does nothing.

Sam looks like he wants to talk and Cas gets up to leave before he has a chance. For now, Sam just needs to know something is up; for now Cas can just leave a trail of breadcrumbs.

He taps out in Morse Code over many days; _Gadreel, possessed, fight, hide it_. Over and over. With no idea if the message means anything to Sam, no way to tell if it’s getting through at all. 

Until one day he clears up after Sam’s been looking for answers to a case, a long session of sitting at his computer and doodling on bits of paper in between making notes. Only… only it’s not doodles, he realises. It’s Morse Code written out in dots and dashes. He stares at it, hoping there’s more to the message. It’s spread over several bits of paper and he lines them all up to see the end result. When he can read it, he sobs. Just once. He covers his mouth and reads it again, just to be sure.

He’s certain. Sam knows. Because all the message says is:

_Working on it._

So when Gadreel takes him to bed, when his body is sore with use and rough treatment, when Sam is buried inside him and he longs for it to be Sam he’s really feeling— he has something to hold on to.

And he can survive until Sam finds a way to see through all the wool that’s been pulled over his eyes, until Sam has the opportunity to kick Gadreel out for good. He can wait for that, now he knows it’s coming.

Sam is fighting, he’s fighting _for Cas._ And that’s enough to give him hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this was enjoyable, I wanted to leave it hopeful but not fully _over_ , but so we could see where it was going.
> 
> Comments and kudos always a welcome addition, thanks for reading!


End file.
